Wild Night
by Sunscorched
Summary: Alcohol has a lot to answer for. VinTifa
1. Chapter 1

-1Title: Wild Night  
Rating: N-18.  
Summary: Alcohol has a lot to answer for.  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Squaresoft/Unix. Am only borrowing them for my own perverted desires!  
A/N: This fic is for Bleuwyn. She gave me this fantastic challenge and I just hope this doesn't disappoint. So Bleuwyn my love, grab your sweet self a cuppa coffee, relax and read. Many hugs and much love, S xxx

Sunlight of the cruellest kind filtered through the curtains to wash a pale face with gold, bringing colour to the deathly still form partially hidden by bed sheets. Birds chirped and tweeted outside; the noise penetrated her world of slumber and eased her back into the land of the living.

Tifa's dry lips smacked together and her body unsuccessfully attempted to roll onto her side. For some odd reason, her eyes felt like ten ton sand bags and her mouth felt like a Chocobo trough. Her shoulders felt like a weight had been removed and she momentarily wondered if her head was still there. Not that she'd know, of course, because she couldn't feel it.

So very gently, a single eye cranked open and immediately slammed shut. Oh holy lifestream. "Oooh…" Tifa moaned, or tried to moan rather. _Now_ she could feel her head.

What the hell was going on in there? And what the hell was wrong with her voice? She didn't feel like Tifa Lockheart, didn't sound like Tifa Lockheart, so who was she and where was the real Tifa Lockheart?

A heavy hand came up to rub away the throb increasing in her brain. Her fingers shook as she coughed, her throat growing more and more parched. Both eyes slowly opened and she groaned as the evil light half blinded her. "Holy planet!"

Tifa covered her face with trembling hands in a good effort to block out the sun and coughed, feeling a not so nice surge of nausea bubble up inside her stomach. She swallowed thickly but it didn't do much good as that bubble quickly turned into a balloon. "Oh God!"

She scrambled up off the bed and barely made it towards the bathroom before she threw up. A few minutes later found the brunette sat, half dead, on cold tiles and holding onto the toilet seat for dear life. Running a semi successful bar had ensured Tifa had experienced various stages of hangovers, but this… This took the cookie.

She got up on numb feet and staggered to the sink, completely unprepared for the sight she would face. It took all the strength she had not to scream in terror at the image reflected in the glass. Her make-up was streaked all over her cheeks and eyes, her lipstick was everywhere but her lips and her neck…

Her neck looked like a vampire had used her as a five course dinner and gone back for seconds. It was only then did Tifa begin to notice the soreness between her legs and her morning went from bad to dramatically worse. Unsurely, she touched herself and cringed when she felt liquid coating her skin. In fact, her entire body seemed to be sticky.

A part of her, some sadistic and sick side of her wondered how and why. The sane half told her she most definitely did not want to know.

"Okay." She croaked and then coughed. "This is a dream. You're dreaming. Any second now, you're gonna wake up, and everything will be fine." Tifa waited and continued to stare at the fright in the mirror. "Any second now…"

When the nightmare refused to end, she pinched her arm and yelped in pain. Nope, this was definitely no dream. She was wide awake and dealing with the aftermath of a one night stand. Whoever he was should be gone by now, well, she hoped anyway.

Tifa struggled to turn the faucet and grabbed the complimentary glass. Dehydration was one thing, vomit breath was quite another. She thoroughly rinsed her mouth out and turned the water off, only pausing to commit the sight of her hangover to memory. "I'll never touch alcohol ever again."

Now she needed to find some aspirin or a Chocobo tranquiliser, or anything to cure the hangover of the century. A decapitation from Sephiroth would be better than this!

Still clinging to the sink and counter for stability, Tifa began to slowly shuffle her way back to the bedroom only to still in horror at the sight of layers black hair peeking out from under the covers.

Her loud gasp obviously hadn't disturbed him as he didn't move a muscle, that's if he had any. Inching quietly forward on tiptoes and with a cringe on her face, the twenty year old focused all attention on grabbing her clothes and escaping.

"Argh!" The yelp, caused by something sharp stabbing her foot, slipped out louder than she wanted and a toned arm slid out from under the covers. The shiny ring circling his fourth finger on his left hand had the nightmare turning into a living hell.

"Please, _please_ let that ring be a family heirloom or a present from his parents." Tifa beseeched, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight. Even as she prayed, she knew the likelihood of that was slim to none. She'd gotten blind drunk and had a one night stand with a married man, and to top it all off, she couldn't remember a single thing about it!

At least the arm belonged to a man.

Panicked eyes scanned the room in a final and very desperate attempt to locate her clothes. Where the hell were they? Ohgodohgod, she probably ended up having a one night stand with a pervert who intended on keeping her clothes as a souvenir.

"Think, Lockheart." Tifa hissed. "You've been doing that very thing for twenty years, it can't be that hard." Unless thinking was what got her into this in the first place. There was no sign of her clothes and so she cautiously glanced at the black hair, wondering if she dared wake him up.

"Okay, here I go…" Damn, she needed something to cover herself up and save what little dignity she had left. "Bit late for that, isn't it?" She sniped sarcastically. He'd probably seen more of her than she had of herself. Still, she couldn't exactly wake him up naked and looking like the Midgar train graveyard.

Back to the bathroom and complimentary soap it was. With a bit of luck, there'd be a large fluffy towel in there.

While Tifa was getting somewhat presentable, the man in bed huskily groaned and tugged the sheets from over his head. Like the brunette, he hid away from the bright and cheery sunshine, muffling his next moan with a cover.

"Kill me." Vincent Valentine choked and coughed, turning a sickly shade of green when the bed bounced in response to the tiny movements. What the hell had he done last night? If the feeling in his groin was any indication, the better question was _who_ had he done last night.

Thumb and forefinger squeezed the bridge of his nose and he tried to rub away the oncoming truck. "Uh," the gunslinger grunted when it did nothing but increased the size of the truck tyres and added a fog horn to the mix. God, his ears were ringing and his legs felt like lead.

Using weak and shaky arms to ease himself upright, Vincent dazedly glanced around to notice he was in his room. Odd, he thought, he would never normally invite a stranger into his domain. Then again, this obviously wasn't a normal situation. He hadn't done anything like this in thirty some years.

The first time he managed to get his rocks off in decades and he couldn't remember a damn thing about it. Still, it must have been some night judging by the wild galloping chocobos in his head.

She'd obviously left before he woke up as there was no sign of a woman's clothes anywhere… His blurry eyes went wide with shock as he took in the state of his floor. Bottles, mostly empty were strewn around carelessly; two bowls with a white and brown residue were next to his boots, and… A picture frame?

Perhaps in his drunken night, he'd agreed to a photograph. Vincent gave a helpless shrug. Whoever she had been was gone now, and half of him was relieved while the other half wanted to know about her. He shook his head to try and clear the fog, or at least some of it, in an effort to remember something.

Nope, no good. The memories of what happened were staying well and truly buried under the contents of the empty bottles.

Vincent tried to move his legs again but his stomach revolted against such a strenuous activity. Immediately, he stopped moving and took a deep breath, feeling it do nothing to help his fuzzy head and dodgy stomach. He waited a moment or six before attempting that feat again, and this time he eased his legs over the edge of the bed and placed both feet unsteadily on the floor.

Elbows went to rest on his knees and only when he placed face in hands did he look down to notice red nail shaped welts on his thighs. There were a few positions that sprang to mind which would explain how claw marks got _there_. While the images were very nice, they would be nicer if he had a face for the woman.

God, he couldn't even remember her name, let alone what she looked like! Well, there was no use dwelling on it now. What was done, was done, and couldn't be reversed. He sighed and sat straight, his legs stretched out in front of him and feet minding the bottles. The world, despite the hangover, didn't seem like such a bad place to be after all.

"Best get dressed." Vincent uncurled his lethargic body and stood. Soreness that only came from pleasurably rough sex spread through him and a smirk couldn't be helped. He only hoped she'd enjoyed herself as much as he obviously had.

Enough of that, he had to meet the rest of Avalanche later and as there was a lot of tidying up to do, he'd better get a move on. Something occurred to him when he made for the bathroom; not once this morning had he thought of Lucretia.

Vincent frowned. Until now, that is. Again, there was no use in dwelling on the past, especially not with the current situation of the planet. He turned to the bathroom door just as the lock clicked open, and he paused.

The door opened and he got an amazing view of a pair of toned legs. Slowly, he followed those legs up over some knees and firm thighs. That tanned skin looked so soft, so lickable… And Vincent kept travelling up over the fluffy white towel until he reached a generous set of breasts that pulled the fabric tight.

A neck covered in love bites was next, then a defined jaw line, shapely cheekbones and finally…

"Vincent?"

Vincent Valentine found himself staring into a widened pair of startled crimson eyes. Suddenly, all memories of the night before came rushing back.


	2. The Night Before

-1Notes: Bleuwyn! I'll be on MSN later this afternoon. I'll ping you if you come on. I've missed you! Many hugs and much love, S xxx

_The night before…_

Tifa leaned her arms on the metal railing and looked down at the mass of people wandering around the main square. Even from her position, she could see the happy and cheery faces, and she sighed in contentment. With the way things were going with Sephiroth and Shinra, it was nice to see people still getting on with everyday life.

She popped her last chocolate into her mouth and chewed, relishing in the candy coating melting on her tongue and the tasty filling trickle down her throat. There was nothing quite like a cherry brandy chocolate liqueur. Offhandedly, she wondered what the others were doing while they were here.

Cloud had gone on his date with Aeris, Barrett was probably catching up on some shut eye or calling Marlene, and Yuffie would undoubtedly be gambling away all her Gil at the chocobo races. Cid would be having a jolly old time of it in the first bar he found. Vincent, the newest member of their group, had expressed an interest in hiding in his room. As for herself…

As much as she loved and respected the people she was with, it was nice to spend some time alone. Living in each other's pockets, day after day, began to grate and personal habits sometimes led to petty arguments. So yes, it was a relief to have some time to think and do what she wanted without having to consult with everyone else.

"Maybe I'll get my hair done or a manicure." Tifa mused as she turned her back on the people. She hadn't done anything like in God knows how long. Probably too long if the state of her split ends were anything to go by. Saving the world didn't exactly leave much time for a girl to look her best.

Or maybe she'd go see that new play, Loveless. A heavy sigh escaped and drew attention from passers by, who received a smile from the brunette. That was another problem with saving the world. No time for dating or hell, kissing. The last man she'd had the pleasure of dating had turned into a total sleaze, thinking she owed him something because he bought her dinner.

Tifa grinned wickedly as she flexed the fist that had painfully connected with his dick. The look on his face when she'd beat him to a bloody pulp would be taken to her grave.

Men will do silly things like try to pick on girls who could teach three different kinds of martial arts. She wondered if he'd kept the ability to reproduce. Hopefully not.

"Well, c'mon Tifa. Let's go have a little fun." Chocobo races, beauty salon, or Loveless? Choices, choices. Ooh, there was that fighting game where you could win some GP. Nah, she already did plenty of fighting, she didn't need that to intrude on her down time. With that thought in mind, the brunette decided she'd simply stroll around until she found something that caught her attention.

She pushed away from the railing and winked at a teenage boy she caught ogling her legs. His face went ten shades of red and Tifa chuckled. Still, it was a boost to her ego and she decided she couldn't be in that bad a state after all.

Lazy steps took her past an exchange counter where a red cloak and black hair became instantly recognisable, and she stopped, a grin forming on her face. Maybe she could sneak up on him and…

"Good afternoon, Tifa."

She slammed a hand across her now wildly beating heart and jumped a good foot in the air, glaring at the amused eyes of Vincent Valentine. "Holy planet!" Tifa swore sharply as her breathing slowly got back to normal. "That wasn't funny."

He didn't reply with words, but merely raised an eyebrow at the fact she was still on her tiptoes.

"Alright, alright." Tifa held up her hands in confession. "I was gonna sneak up on you. I admit it. But that doesn't mean you can do it back." He'd just given her the first heart attack of her life.

"I apologise." Clearly, he was not sorry in the least. "You are enjoying yourself?"

A conversation with Vincent? This was definitely something not to be turned down, as it rarely happened. Usually, he stood quietly in the cockpit of the Highwind and observed all that was going on around him. There was no question about it. From the instant he joined their mission, he'd intrigued her, and Tifa had never been one to ignore intrigue.

Curiosity may have killed the chocobo, but satisfaction brought it back.

"Yep." Tifa fell into step beside him and timed her walk to his casual pace. "I was just relaxing, you know? Taking time out to gather my thoughts so to speak."

"Ahh." The gunslinger knew all about thought gathering. He'd been doing that for the past three decades. "Then, I will leave you to your musings."

He'd taken all of three steps when sense of his words caught up with her. Reacting, Tifa reached out and stopped his escape with a hand lightly wrapped around his arm. "You don't have to go, you know? Company would be nice."

Vincent was so stunned by her willingness to touch him that he couldn't do more than stare at the slender fingers curled around his claw. Unconsciously, he stiffened but she didn't remove her hold. "Surely thought gathering is best done alone."

What took him three paces took her four. She smiled up at him and he realised just how short Tifa Lockheart really was. "True. Though eating is something which shouldn't be done alone. C'mon, you can take me to dinner." His arm was released, but only momentarily, and then he had hers linking him.

"Relax," Tifa chuckled with a shake of her head. "I only bite when asked nicely."

Vincent was helpless against the small tug turning the corners of his lips up. How long had it been since he'd eaten a proper meal? However long, it'd been much longer since he'd dined with a woman. He allowed her to set the walk and followed accordingly, as a gentleman would.

"A nice juicy chocobo steak with potatoes and vegetables…" The girl on his arm mused through a wistful sigh. "What do you want?"

He shrugged. Being in stasis hadn't given much of an appetite, but a steak did sound appealing. "Perhaps the same."

Tifa giggled and shook her head. "If you're lucky, I may treat you to dessert."

No. He wouldn't allow her to treat him anything. In his ideals, when a man wined and dined a lady, he paid. He held the door, pulled the chair out, and did all the little things men these days no longer did. "There is no need to waste your money on me." Vincent stated with a firm nod. "It is a treat enough to accompany you."

He watched as a delightful blush spread across her face, only catching it before she lowered her head to hide it. "Don't say things like that." Give her fiends and monsters, she was fine. Give her a compliment, and she turned helpless.

"It is the truth." He stopped their walk and tilted her chin to make her look at him, letting her see the honesty in his gaze. "I have not…" He struggled a little but she patiently encouraged him to continue. "Had dinner with a lady in…"

Realisation dawned on Tifa and her full lips formed a perfect O. "In that case, you can treat me to dessert. Lemme tell ya, you'll be sorry, cus when I get started on ice cream? I never stop."

Momentarily distracting Vincent from the conversation were images of sweet cream covering those plump lips and her licking it off. His tongue traced his teeth as he inhaled, only to swallow heavily at the thought of licking it off himself. He sharply snapped himself out of the daze he was suddenly in and the bad thoughts under an amused expression.

It was a good thing he wore his cloak, else she might notice something that should not be happening.

"Oh yes." Tifa seriously informed him. "Ice cream is my one true love. We were meant to be together for all eternity." It wasn't a lie exactly; she just left out the part where the ice cream would be smothered all over the body of her favourite actor, who was her one true love.

Vincent brushed his thumb softly across her jaw before dropping his hand to his side. "I am fond of ice cream myself." This time, he did smile. The expression of complete surprise on her face warmed parts of him that had been cold for a long time. "That surprises you."

To his pleasure, she laughed and covered her mouth, leaving him to read the merriment twinkling in her crimson eyes. "In a nice way. So Mr. Sweet Tooth, what's your favourite flavour?"

He blinked. She insinuated there were more than just the strawberry, chocolate, and vanilla which had been around before his stasis. "There are more than three flavours?"

Her pleasure gave way to out and out shock. "What?" Surely he knew there was… Of course, he'd been sleeping while the world was changing. Something inside Tifa bubbled up and she realised just how much Vincent had missed out on. Hojo had put him through hell and back, probably more than once, but yet that tame seemed in comparison to this.

She thought of just how much of an outsider Vincent must feel when she and the others talked about things he might know nothing about. It was no surprise he was as quiet and solitary as he was. God, she was angry, dangerously angry at Hojo. When they found him, Tifa was gonna rip him limb from limb, then she was gonna feed his remains to the starving dragons in the Northern Continent.

Ooh, no wait; she had a much better punishment. Tie Hojo up with chains and give Vincent a few sets of throwing daggers. Yes, she thought in satisfaction, that's what she'd do. That poor excuse of a scientist would suffer the Ten Plagues of Wutai.

"Please, do not pity me." The gunslinger's deep voice shattered her dreams of revenge.

"I don't pity you, Vincent." Tifa replied in a soft voice that belied her violent and bloody fantasies. "I'm just pleased I came along when I did." And it was a good thing she came along when she did, or who knows what else he might have missed out on.

He didn't have a chance to say anything else before his arm, no his hand he corrected, was grabbed and he was being led by a purposeful stride. "I'm gonna buy us dinner, and then _you're_ gonna treat us to dessert." She had a whole bunch of stuff for him to try.

Dinner was eaten and thoroughly enjoyed by both parties, and now they sat with a drink each and waiting for the waitress. The smells from the kitchen were delicious and though they'd eaten their fill, the scent of good food was enough to bring the hunger pangs right back. However, it was time for desert.

Tifa was too busy enjoying Vincent to care about what she wanted. She didn't think she'd ever seen a meal of steak and potatoes devoured quite like that before. He'd savoured every bite, every drop of gravy until his plate was clean and his appetite sated. Now, he was savouring his red wine like it was a gift from the Gods.

He noticed her smiling over the rim of her glass. For a second, he wondered if he had food in his teeth, but recalled this was Tifa. The girl who he'd often observed smiling for no good reason. He envied that ability.

During their meal, Vincent hadn't been able to take his gaze off of her. It was the first time he'd seen in her in such a relaxed atmosphere and without her fighting gloves. Her nails were short and painted a pretty green. Her hair was still tied, but she'd loosened a few wispy strands that framed her face. A classier look, she'd explained as they'd waited for a table.

It was the same on her part. This was the first time she'd ever seen him without his cloak covering half his face. His features were exquisitely defined and contoured; his skin was pale and contrasted with his jet black hair, while his lips were slim and pink. No doubt about it, he was an extremely handsome man.

"Enjoy your meal?" She asked after a delicate sip of her drink.

"Very much, thank you. And you?"

She rotated her glass and swished the wine, releasing a fresh wave of fragrance then held it out towards him. "Oh yes, that's an understatement. Here's to food not from a can." Tifa beamed as Vincent dutifully returned the toast. "Now, onto dessert… Unless you're too full?"

"Not at all, but please allow me too pay for our meal…"

A hand was held up to clearly state that no, he wasn't going to pay for everything. Off his stubborn expression, Tifa sighed helplessly. "We made a deal. I buy dinner, and you buy the ice cream." She gave a dramatic pause, "And a gentleman would _never_ back out on a deal."

Vincent wasn't happy at his values being thrown back in his face, especially not by a woman using them to get her own way in matters like these. "Very well."

"Besides," she grinned in way that put him on guard. "I'm the one bringing you up to date on all things sweet, so the least you can do is pay for it."

Why did that sound as though she were planning to go through the entire dessert menu? "Hmm." Vincent sat back in his chair and studied her. He used to be a Turk, and so one of his talents was the ability to read people. Of course, this was a woman, and not even psychics could read a woman. They were strange creatures, if ever there were such things.

The arrival of their waitress put an end to the conversation and they both looked at her, somewhat annoyed at being disturbed. The young woman shifted on her feet, uncomfortable under the slight glares she received. _Some people_, she thought with a sigh.

"Are you ready to order dessert?"

"Oh, sorry." Tifa blushed and smiled sheepishly, a smidgen of guilt welled up as she realised she must have appeared unwelcoming. She looked to Vincent, who confirmed he was also ready for dessert. "Yes, we're ready. Um, what ice cream flavours do you have?"

The waitress struggled to keep the grin off her face. Obviously she'd interrupted something when she arrived. "We have the usual. Chocolate, strawberry and vanilla. May I recommend something?" She got a nod from the brunette. "Our best seller. It's lemon sorbet in a vodka sauce."

Vodka? The uncertainty was visible on Vincent's face as both the waitress and Tifa raised their eyebrows. "Vodka? And ice cream?" Who on the planet came up with _that_? Then there was the case of lemon ice cream. Lemon ice cream and vodka?

"Not ice cream, Vincent." Tifa corrected with a slight smile. "Sorbet. It's like crushed ice… Kind of." What the hell was sorbet, anyway? "That's sounds yum; we'll have two bowls, please."

"Excellent choice, ma'am. You receive a medium bottle of vodka free."

Immediately piping up, "That will not be necessary, thank you. The sorbet will suffice." The last thing he wanted was to drink vodka, especially after not touching the stuff for thirty years. His tolerance wouldn't be all that great and he really didn't want to look like a fool in front of her.

"No," Tifa countered just as quickly. "We'll have the free bottle." If they didn't drink it, then they could give it to Cid and Barrett. Or it would come in handy for extra sauce.

The waitress ignored Vincent's answer and smiled at his companion. "Excellent. I'll clear these plates away for you and bring your order right over." With that, she gathered the empty plates and made her way back to the kitchen.

"Ooh!" The twenty year old excitedly exclaimed. "I've never had this before. I wonder what it'll be like. After our mission, maybe I'll open a new bar and have this on the menu." The business side of her brain kicked into gear as she thought of all the things she could try. With Midgar being in the slums and the people poorer than other places, there hadn't been a chance to try stuff like this.

Nobody would have been able to afford the cost of cocktails and the bar would've been bankrupt within six months if she'd lowered the prices. As Midgar was destroyed by the collapsed plate, she'd have to find someplace else to set up shop. Perhaps somewhere warm and sunny, like Costa del Sol, or even the Northern Continent. People were always going there for weekend skiing trips or adventure holidays.

Along with her new and improved bar, Tifa saw Vincent as doorman. Sure he didn't have the typical bouncer look, but she knew for certain he had what it took to keep the peace. She grinned at the image of Vincent Valentine in a uniform and demanding ID in that gruff voice of his. The women would flock around him!

"A Gil for your thoughts?" The low murmur brought her out of her reverie. He picked up and drained the last of his wine, sweeping his tongue over his lips to capture stray droplets. Full bodied red; there wasn't much that could beat it.

"I'll have you know I don't come that cheap." Tifa pretended to be affronted and flipped her hair in a way that drew his attention to her neck.

Slender, shapely, soft skinned and tanned. He imagined leaving a love bite there, right above her jugular, just to say she was his. His tongue itched to trace patterns over the warm flesh and lips tingled in anticipation of trailing hot kisses down to her…

"Hmm," Vincent refused to go further with that particular fantasy, "100 Gil?" Still, she denied him the pleasure of her thoughts. "How much?"

Tifa carefully regarded him, her head tilted to one side as she contemplated her answer. "Choose the next dessert and we'll talk." She sounded so playful and teasing that the gunslinger shifted in his seat.

Vincent glanced at her wine glass and noticed it was empty. "You would like a refill?" He'd be more than happy to get them another bottle.

"No thank you. Vodka, remember?" The brunette heavily sighed and leaned on closed hands, then graced him with another look he couldn't read. "Are you going to choose our next dessert, or don't you want to hear what I'm thinking?"

"Very well." Something told him he was either going to regret this or thoroughly enjoy it, but it was too much to resist. He turned to the table behind him, "Excuse me, I apologise for interrupting. May we borrow your menu?" His request was granted and he perused the offerings.

Tifa watched in amusement as he intensely studied the menu, his eyes roaming across one page and then another. She knew the second he found what he wanted; those dazzling red eyes of his widened a little before he handed the menu back. "Well?"

"I have chosen." Vincent informed her. "It is your turn to hold up your end of the bargain."

"Here you go!" The merry voice of the waitress once again interrupted them, and once again she found herself the object of two annoyed glares. Wow, her timing must really suck. She placed the tray down and put a bowl in front of them both, then gave them the opened bottle of vodka. "Enjoy."

And so their night began.


	3. Harsh light of day

-1_Harsh light of day_...

The hangover and memory loss was instantly forgotten as her brain registered the fact she had a naked Vincent Valentine in front of her. A yelp escaped and she spun around, having to grab the counter when she went light headed from the motion. Tifa blinked rapidly in a failed attempt to block out what she'd just seen.

She could only hope she wasn't like this last night. Oh God, last night! What must he think of her? Getting blind drunk and having a one night stand with a man she barely knew. Hands over her face muffled the moan of despair. Where was a hole of mortification when you needed one? It wouldn't have to be a big hole, any hole would do.

The worst of it? Vincent, her friend and fellow fighter, was married. Oh God. She was nothing but a horrible person who stole other women's husbands. She was going to straight to the bowels of hell and staying there.

"I am decent." If what he'd done to her last night was anything to go by, he was far from decent. She'd been so tight; he could still feel the hot squeeze around his shaft. Unconsciously, a hand skimmed his erection hidden below the sheet and he bit back the groan.

It may have been swallowed, but she still heard the soft throaty noise and it caused her eyes to fly wide open. Was he thinking about last night? "Okay, that's great!" Tifa looked to the bathroom wall for help on what to say next. "Now if you could go away while I shrivel up and die, that'd be great too." _Oh, and Vincent? Please don't tell your wife_.

He let her tone wash over him knowing she was probably feeling the effects much more than he was. "I have a sheet so you may remove the towel. I will leave it behind the door." With that, the gunslinger hooked the sheet on the handle and tried not to think about those luscious curves.

Judging by her reactions, Vincent gathered she remembered next to nothing about last night. If she had, then he doubted she'd be hiding from him now. Maybe it was just as well she didn't recall anything. He had a feeling if she knew what went on in that bathroom, she'd run a mile.

_He slipped into sweetness from behind and let her feel what she'd done to him. The moan he forced from her throat brought his blood to boil. He gave it to her hard, hard enough to turn her little moans into choked whimpers._

"_Eyes open Tifa," Vincent murmured, "Watch yourself cum."_

"I will be outside," he managed and escaped before he had a chance to re-enact that particular memory.

Relief caused Tifa's shoulders to sag and she turned to face the closed door, snatching the sheet just in case he changed his mind and took it off her. The wet towel was discarded in favour of the cotton blanket, and then his scent hit her like a ton of bricks. "Oh God," she moaned and closed her eyes, allowing an image to blaze behind her lids.

_She nuzzled his neck and breathed him in, relishing in the musky scent that came from him. "Mmm…" Her lips trailed up his neck, feeling him shiver at the ticklish sensation._

"Tifa…" He warned lightly and gave into the urge to grind his forming erection between her thighs. "We're not in our room yet." 

The brunette was taken aback by the sudden memory and held her throbbing head. If they hadn't been in their room, then where had they been? Not that it really mattered, of course, as whatever happened, happened and couldn't be reversed.

"Just go out there and face the music." Tifa glanced at her reflection over her shoulder and suddenly she felt shame. Not for having slept with Vincent, but for thinking he'd treat her like a whore. Vincent wasn't like that at all. He was a gentleman, and that was something she perfectly remembered.

He wouldn't hurt her, physically or mentally, so why was she so afraid of going out there and speaking to him? She mentally went over the facts. She'd gotten mortally drunk, slept with a friend who was also married, couldn't remember a damn thing, and threw up in his bathroom.

Tifa squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and opened the door, fully ready to face her fate when she suddenly stopped.

Oh holy planet!

Vincent had been asleep for years, so his wife would have been waiting for him to wake up so they could be together. That thought had her resolve to deal with the situation crumble and collapse around her. How horrible could she be?

The gunslinger had waited patiently for her to exit the bathroom so they could clear the air, and he immediately rose from the bed in greeting when the door handle turned. He froze at the sight of tears shining in her eyes and the pout on her lips. Her name had barely left his mouth when she shook her head.

"I swear I didn't know you were married Vincent," she began in a teary voice. "I am so sorry. Since there's nothing to tell, not emotionally anyway, we can keep this between us and your marriage is safe."

Him? Married? He blinked. Where would she get an idea like _that_? He'd been in stasis for three decades, when did she think he had time to get married? Vincent scratched his head and merely looked at her to explain.

Tifa cautiously shuffled further out of the bathroom and held the blanket tighter, her eyes completely focused on an interesting spot on the floor. "I only noticed your wedding ring this morning when I went to wake you up."

_Wedding ring_?

A sense of certain dread had his stomach dropping into the pits of the lifestream as he brought his left hand up for inspection. Sitting right there, on the fourth finger, was a plastic wedding ring with a picture of a smiling chocomog. His gaze travelled warily to Tifa's own left hand and suddenly his world ceased to turn.

"I could ask the same of you." How the hell he sounded calm he'd never know. Inside, he was panicking to high heaven.

Tifa's jaw dropped. "What? I'm not married." Then her face changed to dangerous suspicion. "If this is your way of looking innocent, then I've got news for you pal... Hey!" He was in front of her before she could blink and had her left hand held up where she could plainly see the sunlight glinting off a clear plastic circle.

Vincent raised an eyebrow and twirled the plastic band round until a chocomog smiled up at the brunette. He watched with some satisfaction as her pale face lost a bit more colour before what appeared to be relief flooded her beautiful eyes, and she started laughing. A sound he hadn't heard in, oh, a few hours.

"Oh my!" Tifa shook with relieved giggles and used a broad shoulder to steady herself. "So I'm not a home wrecker after all?" His head numbly went from side-to-side. "Thank Holy. I thought I'd turned into a callous drunken slut who steals husbands!" She laughed a little more at the ridiculousness before gaining control with a chuckled sigh. "All that worrying because we bought ourselves mementos of our, uh, yeah..."

"You will never be either callous, or a drunken slut." Vincent murmured and placed a comforting hand over the one resting on his naked shoulder. The innocent touch brought another blush to her cheeks and he stroked her skin reassuringly. "Come…"

"Already did." Tifa muttered and once again averted her gaze from his as her colour deepened. She just had to say that, didn't she?

"Yes, you certainly did. Many times." He willed away the arousal brought on by memories from last night. It wasn't what either of them needed at this moment in time. But, God, he couldn't help wanting more. "Sit."

His hand was warm and soothing on the small of her spine as he guided her towards the rumpled bed where he sat her down. She would need a seat when he stated that yes, he did in fact have a wife and Tifa knew her intimately. First things first, "Would you care for some tea and aspirin?" He would kill for some.

Grateful ruby eyes finally met his darkening ones and she nodded; the frown on her face almost comical despite the circumstances. "God yes." That reminded her. "Um, I don't suppose you know where my clothes are?" He appeared to know more than she did about last night, so maybe he could solve the mystery of the missing garments.

Good question, he thought with a confused scowl. "Tea and aspirin first, then we talk."

Did they have to talk? Where Tifa was concerned, there wasn't much to talk about. After all, they already knew what happened. Well, he knew what happened anyway. "Not all that much to say. We got drunk and had sex. End of story."

"Yes, we had sex." Not just sex, but incredibly wild and uninhibited sex. Right there, in his bed. "We need to talk of this Tifa. If we do not then our friendship, assuming we have one, will be ruined."

She laughed at his ways and shot him a glance, which was returned with equal stubbornness. "I think we're more than friends now, don't you think?"

"Perhaps," Vincent agreed with a slight smile, "It is still no excuse to pretend this never happened." Besides, if his instincts were on target, pretending would be impossible. "Please, let me fetch some refreshments and…" He rubbed his temple and grimaced, "Aspirin."

Tifa sighed and watched as he began to slowly make his way around the room, gathering the things he needed. Every so often, he would pause to massage the bridge of his nose or soothingly rub his abdomen. Looked like the gunslinger wasn't much better than her, and for some reason the thought gave her comfort.

Her eyes roamed his bedroom and came across a wooden frame on the floor. Curiosity got the better of her when she noticed the chocobo engravings in the frame edge. Stretching, she snatched it up off the floor and turned it over, fully expecting to see a cute picture inside. Maybe they had one taken last night.

"Sugar?"

"Just the one, please. Thank you. Hey, did we have any pictures taken last night?" Tifa asked as she held up the frame for him to see. Before he could do or say anything else, she turned it round and saw there was no photograph in it, only a piece of paper with pretty writing. She read it out loud.

"This is to certify that the authority of Gold Saucer have joined Miss Tofu Lockheart and Mister Vincent Valentone in holy matrimony on the date of…" Tifa's blood stilled in her veins as she looked at the date.

It was yesterday's date.


	4. Colour of you

-1He had hoped to break the news of their marriage to her in a less surprising way, but like all good plans, it never turned out well. Vincent ignored the boiled kettle as he watched Tifa sit and stare at the wooden frame in her hand. It was almost as though she were trying to engrave it into her memory.

Suddenly, she looked to him and held up the certificate. Her face shone with desperate hope. "I'm guessing this isn't one of them novelty things, am I right?" She could hope. Oh God, what if they really married? What then? Save the world, buy a house with a white picket fence, and a couple of dogs? Two words. No and way.

"Yes." The gunslinger regarded her, only just fighting the urge to smile at her confused expression.

"Yes?" Tifa repeated slowly. "That's all you have to say? We got married Vincent. Married!"

"Again, yes." He flicked the kettle switch back on and waited until it reheated. "I would offer cream, but I am unable to find the tiny pots." Still, he had another glance for the cream but could only find milk. Strange. He had never used the cream.

Oh yes. Now he remembered.

_"I believe it is your turn to choose dessert." Vincent purposely posed on the bed and his legs shifted to allow Tifa a perfect view of his erection. His eyes roamed over her svelte figure appreciatively and openly lingered on her chest._

"Mmm dessert…" Tifa hungrily ate up the sight of his toned stomach. A wave of heat burst between her thighs and she rubbed her legs together. She had the idea and the inspiration, now all she needed were the tools.

The gunslinger groaned as pressure built up and he purred at the feel of his own hand moving slowly up his arousal. "C'mere, Misshush Valentone. Put that smart mouth to good use."

"You said it was my turn." She pouted, twirled her hair, and pushed her full breasts out. At the sound of his lusty purr, she knew she'd won that little round. Tifa winked and giggled, tormenting him by popping a fingertip into her mouth and sucking lightly.

"Tease," Vincent growled, "Yes…" His hips bucked up into his fist, his digits flexed around his shaft. Hooded eyes watched as she raised her skirt high up her legs and gave him a very nice view.

_Before he could speak his thoughts, his teasing little wife had dropped her skirt and turned away, sweetly giggling at her agonising form of torture. "Tifa…" The warning in his voice was crystal clear and perfectly understood, and also ignored._

"I'm bringing you dessert, remember?" The temptress moved so her skirt was taut over her firm and rounded ass.

That sight just made him want to do very bad and very dirty things to that luscious looking treat. A wickedly slow smile furled up and his eyes glinted diamond hard; she kept moving like that and he wouldn't be responsible for his actions.

"If I were a… Aha!" Vincent went from simply horny to curiously horny in a split second. What was she doing? His question remained unanswered as she turned to face him with a cheeky smile and hands hidden behind her back. "Close your eyes and no peeking."

He cautiously studied the vixen before obeying and closing his eyes, resisting temptation to open them when he heard the sound of clothing being removed. A little pop came next and then a low hum, but still Vincent resisted opening his eyes. The bed dipped under her weight and he felt her core hotly scrape down his shaft.

The next thing he knew, something cool was being dripped on his skin. Instantly, his eyes snapped wide open to see Tifa smiling innocently down at him. "I'm gonna enjoy this." 

Tifa didn't see the way Vincent traced his mouth with his fingers, and nor did she see the way his expression screwed up in desire. He could still feel the creamy liquid being poured over him and the warmth of her mouth sliding to swallow him whole.

"We're married and you're talking about what I take in my tea?" She took a very deep and very noisy breath, held for five, then slowly exhaled. "Okay. This is probably just one of those novelty things. I doubt it's real." It was a long shot, but she was grabbing onto it like a lifeline.

"I imagine not." Vincent calmly stirred first her tea and then his, the banging in his head synchronised with the clatter of metal against ceramic. "We are married Tifa, you are my wife." It was quite simple really. They were married. Husband and wife. Ball and chain. However way it was said, they were legally bound to one another.

As his back was to her, he didn't the incredulity marring her face. "Okay, now I know you didn't mean that the way it sounded." The way he spoke implied he would be happy to leave it at that. "Look. Perhaps we didn't actually go all the way, but…"

Vincent faced her with a smirk riding on his lips. "We did," she opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. "Three times," and each time, he'd made her scream his name over and over.

"Maybe, oh I don't know, that was wishful thinking on your part. Or maybe you dreamt it." It seemed so weird to be accepting a cup of tea off the man she'd had sex with, but never mind. After everything else this morning brought, the normality of a cup of tea was just what she needed.

A dark eyebrow reached his hairline. The feeling in his groin clearly stated it was definitely not a dream or wishful thinking. Since he couldn't describe the sensation, Vincent placed his cup beside the kettle and went to stand in front of her. He gazed down at the panicked girl and licked his lips just once.

The only part of Tifa not frozen was the shaking hand holding her cup. She was entranced by brilliant crimson orbs as they bent down to her level. Traitorous breasts ached with pleasure she didn't remember and her stomach tightened, responding to unknown stimulation.

"Your body is no stranger to mine," Vincent murmured and purposely scanned her chest, pointedly glancing at her. He didn't need to do or say anymore for Tifa to get the idea, but that didn't stop him from continuing. "I kissed your lips with my mouth and…"

She gasped and her cheeks burned bright red. She prevented him from saying anything more by placing a trembling hand over his mouth. "Sssh!"

Vincent removed her hand, his lips pressing dry and warm smooches up her palm before kissing each one of her fingertips. If only she recalled some of the things she'd said to him last night. Any shyness would be replaced by complete mortification. "You've no need to be embarrassed or ashamed."

He certainly wasn't embarrassed and definitely not ashamed. If anything, he was rather proud. Tifa Lockheart was a beautiful woman, not to mention well endowed. Oh yes, he recalled those full breasts vividly.

"Of course not, I mean we've already done God knows what." Tifa snatched her hand away and clenched her fist in an effort to ignore the tingles she got from his touch. "It's supposed to go the other way round. Ya know. Date for a while, get to know each other, have sex, and then get married."

He couldn't argue with that. However, drunken logic must have argued and wiped the floor with common sense. "Perhaps," Vincent agreed, "It does not mean to say the proper way is best." He studied her for a few moments as she contemplated his words. "What is really bothering you?"

Surprised, the brunette could only gape at the gunslinger, who merely gave a secret smile. How did he know there was something other than the morning's discoveries playing on her mind?

"Last night was not just about intoxicated sex," he stated, mildly amused. "I learned a little about the workings of your incredibly perplexing mind."

Tifa scowled at him. "My mind is not perplexing. I'm simply complicated." She didn't care to read his expression, instead focusing on the steam rising from her cup for a second before returning her attention to him. "You're much older than me, have more experience." God, this was humiliating. "Was I okay?"

Vincent wondered at her meaning. "Did you…" She cleared her throat and tried again. "Was I able to please you?"

Ah. Had she pleased him? _It feels like a vice squeezed thirty years worth of orgasms out of me in the matter of minutes, yet she is asking if I was satisfied?_ He didn't say that to her, of course, he too sensitive to her currently delicate sensibilities. Neither did he tell her he was getting hard just thinking about it.

She laughed humourlessly, taking his silence as a gentle let down. "You haven't had a woman for decades. How could I not satisfy you? Anyone could have done that." Now Tifa did feel like an idiot.

He stood and stared down at her, smirking when he noticed they were in the exact spot where she'd sucked him into oblivion. Vincent's smirk grew into a lecherous grin at the widening eyes now focused solely on the evidence of renewed hunger, visible beneath the sheet. "It was not nearly enough."

"Finish your tea." the gunslinger left her side after touching her cheek. "I believe your clothes are in the closet."

"Amazing," she exclaimed in exaggerated humour that came equipped with a cuttingly sarcastic smile. "He gets trashed, but still remembers to hang clothes in the closet. Tell me Mr. Valen_tone_, what kind of man are you?"

Vincent drained his tea in seconds. "A married one it seems." He walked towards the bathroom, dropping his sheet as he moved only for a loud yell to pierce his ears. That noise didn't help his tap dancing brain. Forgetting about his nakedness, he spun to face the brunette and saw a look of horror etched on her face.

Tifa was too shocked to explain the sudden outburst. His shoulder blades and back were covered in red welts, marring the flawless expanse of pale flesh. Her cheeks exploded in colour and a squeak escaped her quivering lips. "Please tell me you use your gauntlet as a back scratcher."

"Uh?" He opened the bathroom door and stood in front of the mirror, craning his neck too see the state of his skin. No wonder the sheet had felt so uncomfortable. Just more proof he'd performed well last night.

Black writing decorating his right ass cheek quickly distracted her from her damage. Her already wide eyes turned to saucers as the words became clear under her intense study. She really hoped that black writing was caused by a Sharpie, or body paint, or something other than what her instincts told her it was.

Tifa grasped onto the calming techniques Zanagan had taught her in order to preserve her sanity, but she couldn't look away. Right there, scrawled across the firm muscle of Vincent Valentine's butt was the name Tofu. Beside it, a cheesy picture of a heart with a gold lock lay in all its colourful glory.

Her heart, blessedly still working, began to thump madly in her chest as she continued to stare silently at the image.

On hearing her fall stone cold quiet, Vincent gave his attention to Tifa and raised both eyebrows at the unreadable expression on her face. His question was silent and the only thing she could do was point to his left ass cheek.

"Oh. That." If she dropped her sheet, he'd be able to see the tattoo adorning her right cheek. Perhaps he should let her discover that one on her own.

"What do you mean, oh that?" Her voice cranked up a notch, almost becoming unbearable. "That's a tattoo, Vincent! It's for life. You're gonna have my name, complete with lock and heart, forever on your ass."

"Your point?" The gunslinger saw no need to cover back up and lazily leaned against the bathroom door frame, seemingly content to watch as she worked herself up.

Tifa took a steadying breath and continued to explain in a way that might their situation to sink into that skull of his. "My point being this entire morning is…" It wasn't often she found herself speechless, but it wasn't often she found herself in positions like this. Hell, this was her first post-drunken marriage position.

_First_? It was the first and last post-drunken marriage position she'd be in.

Vincent just looked at her, a smirk tugged at his lips as he watched the brunette attempt to control her hyperventilating. "Tifa," her attention was immediately on him and he kept it as he pushed away from his post, sauntering back to where she sat.

She averted her gaze from his crotch and nearly jumped a mile when she felt him next to her. She tensed at the first touch of his hand on her bare shoulder and slowly looked at him.

Perhaps he should give her fair warning of her own tattoo after all. "If my memory serves me well, then you also have a tattoo."

The brunette blinked and tried to assimilate the information he'd just divulged. Then she shot up off the bed, dropped the empty tea cup, and began fighting with her sheet. Tifa tugged it right up, turning her neck this way and that, trying desperately to see if he was telling the truth.

Just then, she caught a glimpse of dark writing curving across her right buttock and she struggled to see more. As she couldn't Tifa scurried to the bathroom in order to use the mirror for the purpose of seeing what was now decorating her ass. The words Vincent Valentone appeared to have grey smoke clouding round while there seemed to be the start of a picture.

"What is it?" She dreaded the answer.

Vincent used his elbows for support, shamelessly exposing himself to his wife. "A smoking gun." Her tattoo was artistically done in shades of black and grey, and if he was honest, he found it incredibly attractive.

He studied the curves on display with unabashed appreciation and traced his teeth with his tongue, wondering if he should confess to the love bite on the opposite cheek. _Biteable_.

"Oh God!" Tifa groaned as she let the blanket fall down, blocking his view. "What are we gonna tell the others?" She was all up for keeping this a secret, but that would be impossible since they all lived in such close quarters on the Highwind.

Vincent kept silent as he contemplated telling her the others probably knew by now, since Cait Sith had witnessed their intoxicated wedding.


	5. Sweet nothings

-1_The loser does whatever the winner wants_.

Those were the words that set the battle lines and started the war. Those were the words that got Tifa thinking if she won, she could have Vincent doing whatever she wanted. Those were the words that got Vincent thinking if he won, Tifa was going to do whatever _he_ wanted.

Not that either of them knew what they were going to get the other to do, but that didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. They both had their pride and lots of it.

She was playing to win for her side of the gender pool, and so was he. Neither was going to hand the victory over on a silver platter.

"Is it hot in here, or is it just you?" Tifa spoke without missing a beat, the grin on her face evident of her enjoyment of this.

Vincent smirked. "Do you believe in love at first sight, or shall I walk past again?"

Tifa blinked and put on the most innocently beguiling expression she could. "I seem to have lost my way, would you mind taking me with you?"

"Do you have any Wutai in you?" Vincent asked as he signalled the waitress back over. How the hell had they gone through two bottles of vodka already? Not to mention the three desserts. Lemon sorbet and vodka, the creamy one with the chocolate liqueur, and the disgustingly unhealthy Knickerbockerglory, which came complete with full cream

His stomach rolled in protest and sang in delight. It was sickly, but oh so good. Two hours later and he could still feel the way the cream dripped onto his tongue. Tifa had originally ordered two, but the waitress had rightfully advised them to order one. These Knickerbockerglory things would be the ultimate downfall of mankind.

"You're from Wutai?" Tifa quizzed, momentarily distracted from the game when he confessed his origins. She studied him closely. Her gaze traced every single facial feature, right from the elegant lines of his jaw to the way his eyes were set. His hair was jet black and perfectly straight, an exquisite Wutai characteristic.

She wondered if any of the others knew he was from Wutai. It was a bit selfish, but she hoped they didn't. Telling someone something usually implied trust, so this meant Vincent trusted her, and made her feel all warm inside.

"I am." The gunslinger answered once he was sure she was finished her study of his features, and turned to face the waitress. "I would like to…"

"Another bottle of vodka?" The waitress struggled to hide her grin. She'd been watching them for the past few hours and noticed them getting a little worse for wear. Bets had been started in the kitchen for how long it would take for them to get it on. If the momentous occasion happened in the next half hour, she stood to win a whopping eighty Gil.

"If it is not too much trouble." Tifa rolled her glazing eyes and shook her head. Only Vincent Valentine would think ordering a drink, in a bar, would be too much trouble. He was just so… so… He was just so something, she didn't know yet, but was sure she'd think of it.

The waitress took the order and left them to it. On her way to the bar, she paused for thought. Eighty Gil was a lot of money. In fact, it was more than she made in a day. Maybe she'd give them a little something to go with the vodka, on the house of course. It never hurt to give people a push in the right direction.

Maybe she'd give them a bottle of twenty Gil champagne. That stuff was lethal.

Getting back to The Game, Vincent repeated his line. "Do you have any Wutai in you?"

"No, I don't have any in me." _But I wouldn't mind_. Tifa only just managed to hide her gasp with her hand. Bad thoughts led to bad things. Still, this was Vincent. He was sensible. He wouldn't let her do anything bad.

"Would you like some?" _I got plenty_. He cleared his throat and pretended he just didn't think that. This was Tifa, she was nice, and she wouldn't do anything bad like what he was thinking.

The brunette blushed as he answered her very thoughts. He was the kind of man that could turn a good girl bad. Very, very bad, and she was more than willing to go along for the ride. However, there was a war to win and the reputation of women to protect. There were bigger things at stake right now and she couldn't afford to lose.

Tifa levelled a mock serious stare at him, licking her lip for added effect. She'd do what she had too in order to win. "Have you got a mirror in your pocket?"

He frowned in confusion. "Why?"

"Cus I can see myself in your pants." At this, Vincent laughed enough to make his shoulders shake and Tifa giggled.

"Pretend to walk out." Off her bewilderment, "Pretend to walk out."

She did as asked and pretended to get up, but only turned her back to him. "I'm leaving now…" The sentence was left open for him to finish.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" When the brunette returned her attention to him, he sported the most incredible pout known to mankind.

Dutifully she asked, "What?"

Vincent's dazzling eyes turned to those belong to a puppy and she almost melted. "Me."

The reply had her eyes rolling. She'd expected more than that from an ex Turk. "Do you have a mutual friend who could introduce us?"

"Orgasms are known as the little death. Would you like to die happy?" Even as he said this, Vincent's cheeks took on a light pink hue and lowered his face in the hope she wouldn't see.

"The amount of times I've heard that one…" She sighed, it was her turn again. "Do you know the main difference between sex and a conversation?" He played along and shook his head. "Wanna go to bed and talk?"

If that be the case, he'd talk all night long if she wanted. "You have been very naughty, go to my room."

Damn him! That was her next one. Now what could she say? Oh yeah, this was a good one. "You're a sex crime waiting to happen." Tifa gave a gleeful little snigger at getting one out before her fifteen second time limit was up. _Yeah, take that Valentine. Teach you not to mess with the best. Ha_!

Vincent purposely leered at her body, well, as much as he would without appearing like a pervert. "Your parents threw you some tight curves." He hated himself for using that one, but this wasn't the time to be choosy.

"I don't know what you think of me, but I hope it's x-rated." The smirk appearing on his face had Tifa squirming and wondering if x-rated thoughts were going through his head. The idea of Vincent thinking that about her was enough to make her stomach tighten.

He suddenly got out of his seat, and for a moment she thought he was going to leave. When Vincent began to wave his arms around, jumping up and down, Tifa figured he going to leave after he embarrassed the hell out of them.

"What the hell are you doing?" She hissed and sank into her seat, using a hand to hide her reddening face. "Oh God. People are looking!"

"I am a penguin. I am trying to break the ice." That was the first chap-up line he ever used and he'd been about twelve at the time. It worked like a charm and he'd gotten his first kiss from a sixteen year old girl who thought he was the same age.

Tifa couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up. "Cute. Weird, but definitely cute." She watched as he sat back down as though nothing had happened. He appeared as calm and composed as ever. Her turn again.

Vincent stifled a groan as she popped a slender finger inside her mouth. She then slid that glistening finger down the front of her top, and then reached over to do the same with his. "Lets you and me get out of these wet clothes."

"I am curious," he checked her over in a way that prickled her skin with heat, "Are you as good as you look?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out!" 

"Smart answer." The gunslinger complimented with a grin. He was thirsty, where was the alcohol? Vincent looked around for their waitress and saw her at the bar, putting a dark green bottle onto a tray. From his position, he could just see the label reading champagne. He hadn't ordered that, he was sure of it.

Tifa took his expression as a sign of possible trouble and began looking in the same direction. The vodka had her light headed, but that could be ignored if it came to the crunch. Still, it'd be a shame if trouble did ruin tonight. "What is it?" She couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.

"I fear the waitress has gotten our order wrong."

She shrugged, "Heh, we all make mistakes."

The two watched the waitress approach their table with a smile. "Compliments of the house," was all she said and placed the champagne on the table, along with two crystal flute glasses. That eighty Gil was as good as hers.

The war picked up where it left off, and that was Vincent's turn. "If I owned the alphabet, I would put U and I together."

"Aww Vincent," Tifa mockingly cooed and watched as he did the gentlemanly thing, and began to open the champagne. "That's sooooo cute!" She sniggered when he visibly blanched at being labelled cute. "What winks and screws like a tiger?"

"I do not… Know…" Vincent pointed the bottle away from them both just as the cork came out with a loud pop. The froth gushed out, soaking his hand and pants. He shook his hand frantically in an attempt to get rid of the liquid, and Tifa watched the spectacle in high amusement.

She bit her lip and wondered if she dared do what she thought. _Oh yeah_. By the time the devil on her shoulder won the debate, Vincent had put the bottle to one side and was about to dry his hand on his cloak. Tifa snatched his hand and brought it to her mouth.

He blinked, not quite sure if she was doing what he thought she was doing. When her warm lips closed around his finger, Vincent knew he was dreaming. Her mouth and tongue worked from knuckle to tip, determined not to lose a drop. Tifa watched his eyes glaze and lose focus as she repeated with his next digit.

"Mmm tasty…" Tifa released his hand and licked her lips.

The waitress held out her hand and wiggled her fingers, already feeling the delicious sound of jingling coins lining her purse.

Vincent was breathing heavily by the time she finished and his pants were uncomfortably tight. "I would not know." Her glass was filled half way and he indicated her to drink. His eyes were focused on the way her throat tilted and when her lips touched the rim, his blood went south.

Tifa put her glass down and resisted the urge to moan. He was looking at her like she was his next meal. She licked her lips again, this time in anticipation. "Tasty. The bubbles tickle. You should try it." It didn't take long for the gunslinger to react.

He leaned over the table and stole a kiss, using his tongue to lap the droplets on her pout. "Tasty indeed." His voice was low and gruff, the vibrations of his words had her body tingling and she squirmed in her seat. "Let's get out of here."

"Have somewhere in mind?" Tifa whispered and her lips kept grazing his.

"Yes." Who cared about a stupid game? There were much better and much more productive things for them to be doing.

&&&&&&&&&&

Vincent swallowed a large gulp of the champagne and replaced his mouth on hers. Tifa readily welcomed the kiss, tasting the bubbles lingering on his tongue. He groaned into her and his free hand grasped her knee, kneading the toned muscle with talented fingers.

"Yessss…" Her head dropped onto his shoulder and parted her legs to allow him the access he wanted. He moved higher up her thigh until cotton panties teased his fingertips and he pressed softly against her.

There was something about touching a woman through her panties that got Vincent right where it hurt. But feeling Tifa through her panties simply had him hard. "You feel good. So warm and soft," he mumbled into her mouth. "And wet."

She pushed on his hand and turned her face to muffle her light moans against her shoulder. Tifa snatched a hold of his cloak, fisting the warm material and rocking her hips rhythmically.

_Mmmm_. Vincent moved up and down the swollen slit, pausing when he felt the sensitive entrance. He chuckled when she bucked, the motion making his hand roughly touch her completely. "You like that?"

A hummed "Uh-huh," was his answer and the gunslinger massaged the tiny bud with the heel of his palm. The only thing stopping his fingertips from penetrating was her underwear.

The Love Boat ride maybe dark and private, but it was by no means sound proofed. One or two people close to them looked their way, the goings on of Vincent and Tifa seemingly more exciting than themselves.

Soft hair tickled him as he slid past the waistband of her panties and he groaned. She was burning and soaking, and it was all because of him. A single finger traced the shape of her and he felt the tiny pearl throb in response. He tugged it and Tifa cried out in surprise.

This time, more than one or two people looked in their direction, but couldn't see much. The torches designed to give a romantic atmosphere gave off a low glow and highlighted the way he was seated to her right. Though the light was dim, it was enough to make it obvious what was going on.

One of the security guards frowned. This kind of romance was definitely not allowed and he whispered a quick word to his partner before leaving through a door marked Private. Something would have to be done. He couldn't allow that to go on in public.

Tifa reached behind her, feeling around under the cloak for Vincent's thigh and followed the muscle up until she found her prize. Wide eyed turned to look at him over her shoulder. He simply smirked and rolled his hips forward.

"Unzip me… Good girl… Ah yes, like that…" He grunted when her hot little hand firmly clutched him and began to move. "Harder." He didn't mind begging when it got him off.

Those two thick fingers of his slid inside and he twisted them, hitting her sweet spot and making her legs snap shut. "Vincent please," Tifa grasped him harder, and listened as his breathing paused before a long drawn out moan vibrated through him.

He paused in thought and suddenly removed his slick digits. Vincent held them up and licked his lips, helpless to stop the fantasy from tearing through his brain. "Drink." It wasn't a request.

Hooded crimson eyes blinked and a shaky hand took the half empty champagne bottle, gulping a healthy mouthful. Tifa grinned at the way his expression became set in stone.

"Taste." His voice had dropped an octave and his gaze completely focused on her lips. Fingers swept across her pout and Vincent began to pant heavily as he watched her mouth glisten. Slowly, that digit eased inside and her tongue wrapped round to lick up the honey.

Her thighs rubbed together and she tried to fight the ache building between. The second she tasted herself on him, arousal dripped down to dampen her skin and she pushed back into him. The move had her skirt rising and he let out a strangled groan, looking down to see the tip of him brushing against her skin.

Without hesitating, Vincent crushed his lips harshly to hers and tasted the luscious combination of champagne and sex. His hips eased further against her, his shaft slid along her skin and _God_, it all felt so good.

Tifa ground back into him and tightened around his length, sliding slowly up until her thumb lightly grazed the broad head. He was slippery to touch and she rubbed the liquid all around him, feeling him quiver in her hand.

"Oh, that's good." Vincent's hand followed the bread crumbs back down to where her panties teased his fingers. Again, he promised penetration but didn't give it. She was drenched in sin and sex, and he should have felt guilty, but he couldn't. He slipped lower and pressed hard.

Those white panties was only thing stopping him from easing inside that tight cunt was her underwear. "Take them off for me." She didn't hesitate.

The elastic was torture as she took them off and no sooner had she done that, then Vincent snatched them out of her hand. "Mine." He put them into his pocket for safe keeping and placed his hand on her knee. Moist digits crept higher until Tifa's breath hitched when he reached his goal.

"You want me," he murmured throatily. The gunslinger rimmed her entrance and forced a tiny moan from her throat as she spread her legs for him. "Open up for me..." Silky walls stretched to fit and Vincent curled his fingers up, stroking her sweet spot.

Tifa suddenly jumped and let go of him, much to his frustration. "The ride's almost ended. We can't get caught with our pants… Quick. Gimme my panties back." She could feel her face burning ten shades of red as she saw the light at the end of the tunnel.

"No." Vincent itched to ignore the truth and continue. The way her soft hand kept sliding up and down had him wanting so much more. His eyes half rolled and flickered as he pulled away from the brunette to carefully tuck himself back into his pants. "Damn."

"Excuse me…" A man in uniform approached the tunnel just as the ride was finishing. He looked at the bright red brunette, and then looked again. He was sure she'd just been pulling her skirt down. "Can you both accompany me, please? The park warden would like to speak with you about some complaints."

Vincent and Tifa glanced at each other, and knew they were busted.


	6. Full circle

-1Heya all!

Thanks for the fab reviews everyone ;-D. I must confess to not being totally happy with this part, but never mind. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

Hugs, S xxx

&&&&&&

_Full circle…_

"You are feeling better?"

Tifa lifted her head from her hand and just looked at him. Those red eyes of his were dazzling, reminding her of luminous rubies. They reflected the mid-morning sun in a way that left her breathless. Vincent Valentine truly was a beautiful man.

A moment or so passed before he received an answering smile. It was small, barely there in fact, but there all the same. "Yeah," she mumbled, "You make a good cup of tea."

"Each person has a purpose," he stated with a forming smile of his own. The sight made hers grow, which in turn, made his get a little bit larger. "I would like to take a shower…"

A wave of guilt swept over the brunette's face. She felt so rude. She'd cleaned herself up somewhat, had a small wash, and he hadn't. "Oh," Tifa exclaimed, "Of course. Sorry for keeping you from freshening up." God, this was awkward beyond words.

Sure she'd seen him naked and probably done things to him, but it didn't mean that this was any less easier. If anything, it made it worse. The thought of Vincent in the shower, standing there naked with hot water trickling down his body was enough to make her cheeks burn a deep red.

Vincent watched with a smirk as the pretty blush crept over her face and wondered what she was thinking. "There is no need for apologies. Am I correct to assume you have not had one either?"

"I've splashed water on my face, but that's about it," she confessed. "I'll just wait until I get back to my room to have a shower." Or maybe three.

"You may have one here if you wish." A smirk flirted on his lips and she had to look away from temptation. "I promise to be good."

The look she gave could've killed. "Har har," Tifa sniped but only had the man chuckling quietly. "If you don't mind, I'd love to have one. I'm all sticky…" Oh hell. Oh holy hell. Now those eyes of his were roaming her figure, the crimson shade seemed to bleed with a sudden flash of lust.

He inhaled deeply and saw the way she locked her thighs tightly together and heard the tiny whimper that escaped her throat. "Tifa," Vincent rasped out, "Refrain from making such inviting comments. Unless you wish for a repeat of last night. Of course, I am more happy to oblige. Do you?"

She thought about it. Standing the hot spray, with his hands roaming her body, washing away sin with care and attention. She thought about lathering up his jet black hair and him doing the same. _God_, she wanted it. Sadly, she didn't dare take it.

Not with the morning's discoveries. It would be too much.

Vincent schooled his handsome features into a solemn expression. "As I thought. You may go before me. I swear not to peek." He couldn't resist teasing her, not when it brought about such an adorable pink haze to her cheeks.

Tifa glared at him, but that seemed to amuse him all the more. "Thank you," she ground out, mentally damning his teasing. "I won't be long. I'll leave enough hot water."

Honestly that was the last of his worries. The first was sticking to his promise of being good. He already knew what she looked like naked. Knowing she was in the shower, in _his_ shower, soaping her body up with _his_ products… It was more than he could tolerate.

Vincent purposely away from her and focused on the wall. "Go. Take your shower." _Before I break my word._ "I will place an order for extra towels, and…"

A low growl cut his words off and his attention went straight to the source. Tifa's stomach, which she covered with a hand in a futile attempt to quieten it. A dark eyebrow arched, "And breakfast, if you wish to dine with me?"

Gratitude warred with embarrassment, and again she blushed. "Breakfast would be a good idea, I guess." They were supposed to meet the others for breakfast, but never mind. Given the morning and all it's glory, it was probably better they dined in private. At least until they figured out what they were going to do about certain things. Namely their marriage.

Vincent gave a brief nod. "You would like a simple meal?" Perhaps that would be best, considering the hangover seemed to be mainly focused on the gut.

"A simple meal would be perfect. Scrambled eggs would be great." Tifa paused for thought. "Ooh! And bacon, maybe some sausages and…" She drifted off, coughing and turning her face away to hide her reddening cheeks.

The gunslinger's lips quirked up into an amused, lopsided smile. "It pleases me you have a healthy appetite. Do not be ashamed. Now go, freshen yourself, and I will treat you to breakfast." He saw her mouth open in readiness to object, but he got there first.

"No Tifa. I insist on having this pleasure. Drunken mistake or not, you are my wife and it is my duty to care for you." He breezed past her before she had time to think, his scent washing over her and making her feel warm.

She watched through bemused eyes as Vincent stopped, scratching his head in confusion. "Try the bedside drawer."

He glanced over his shoulder as if to say "I knew that." Tifa just shook her head and chuckled. Men!

Again, she watched as Vincent moved, her gaze filling with admiration as lean muscle rippled beneath his skin. He didn't have an overly muscular build, he was slender, but toned, firm yet soft. Broad shouldered, trim waist, long legs that carried a confident stride, and good hands.

He didn't look strong at all, but he glowed with it. He whispered power, the kind of power that only came with darkness.

Tifa swallowed and forced herself to look away. Simply put, Vincent Valentine was lethal. "Okay!" She stated in a very false, very cheery voice that failed to hide her growing attraction. "Definitely going in the shower now."

She didn't have a chance to move before he spun on his heel and placing an iron grip around her deceptively fragile hand. Jet black hair flopped messily into blood red eyes and pale pink lips curled up into a sensual smirk. "Tifa…"

Without hesitating, Vincent sharply pulled her against him and crushed his mouth down on hers, forcing her pliable lips open. She squeaked in surprise, but that squeak soon turned into a hum of pleasure. She had to hand it to him. He was a remarkably good kisser for someone who'd been locked away in a coffin.

Tifa relaxed into him, threading her arms up and over those broad shoulders, the motion making her sheet drop to the floor in a heap. Vincent gasped when he felt her breasts press against his chest. He deepened the kiss, his eyes fluttered closed and a large hand brushed down to cup her buttocks.

He gave the firm globes a healthy squeeze, she yelped, and he chuckled. The vibrations shuddered through Tifa and she pulled him closer, close enough to feel the arousal between his thighs. Vincent moaned into her mouth, grinding his erection hard against her.

She purred when his tongue took dominance over hers. Yes, the kiss was nice, but stale alcohol breath was another thing entirely. Slowly, so very slowly, he decreased the pressure until they were barely touching.

"Vincent," Tifa sighed, her lips lightly brushing his as she spoke. "Tell me you have a spare toothbrush."

Deep, throaty chuckles shook his body. He pressed a chaste kiss to her swollen lips and let his forehead drop onto hers. "You will find the complimentary toiletries in the cabinet. Take your shower, I will be here."

She cursed the blush that once again coloured her face. She ducked her head, hoping he wouldn't see it. "You won't need to worry about the lack of hot water."

Vincent's laughter followed the brunette into the bathroom and she could still hear it after she closed the door. Sounds of falling water came shortly, and he stood there, simply staring at the smooth wood and imagining her in there, naked and getting wet. If he hadn't given her his word of being good, he didn't doubt he would be in there with her.

As it happened, he did promise to be good, and so he turned away with a sigh, once again going for the phone. Towels and breakfast, he reminded himself as he opened the table drawer, perhaps a flower for Tifa. It had been so long since he'd truly romanced a woman, that he figured there was no harm in spoiling her a little.

Of course they had things to discuss. They had last night and all it's surprises to speak of, then they had to work out what they were going to do about it. Vincent shook away those thoughts for now and concentrated on getting them some nourishment.

"_Good morning, Room Service and House Keeping_," came the helpful voice, "_How may I help you_?"

What had Tifa expressed an interest in eating? Ah yes. "Good morning," Vincent returned. "I wish to place an order for two breakfast specials and extra towels, if that is no trouble."

"_No trouble, sir. Your room number_?"

"132, and if it is at all possible may I request a flow…" A sharp gasp from the other end of the phone stopped the rest of Vincent's romantic request.

"_I don't mean to be rude, but are you the couple who got married last night_?"

"…Yes? What of it?" He glanced over his shoulder to ensure Tifa was still in the shower and blissfully unaware that half the hotel seemed to know of last night's drunken misdemeanours.

The woman let out an excited "_Ooooh!_" They rarely got honeymooners nowadays. All these young couples tended to prefer the warmer climates of Kalm and Costa Del Sol."_Don't you worry, sir. The hotel has a policy for all newlyweds. They receive a bouquet of flowers, a bottle of champagne, and a Honeymoon Special. On the house. I'll have your order sent up to you as soon as we can, sir_."

She hung up before Vincent could say another word and he was left, gaping, at the telephone receiver and cringing at the thought of alcohol. Hmm. Tifa should be nice and calm after her shower, so she should take the news of their popular wedding well. In the meantime, the gunslinger decided to make himself useful and get her clothes ready for her.

There wasn't much worse than stepping out of a hot shower into the cool air.

A few steps was all it took for him to reach his closet and a quick, easy tug was all it took for him to open it. Vincent stared at the garments inside the closet for a moment or two, then numbly shut the door. He blinked once, twice, thrice, and once more opened it to make sure he saw what he did.

Right there, hanging up neatly, was a crisp white wedding dress and a black suit. He had one question and one question only.

Where on the Planet were their clothes?


	7. The great escape

-1Heya All!

Bleuwyn, this chapter is all for you babe. Thanks to everyone for all the replies and reviews, I really appreciate it.

Hugs, S xxx

&&&&&&

_Slap_. _Slap_. _Slap_.

The noise of a nightstick hitting a gloved palm was slowly beginning to grate on the nerves of both Vincent and Tifa. It was sheer willpower alone that stopped them from turning round and beating the ever holy hell out of the guard.

"Pick it up, you two." The guard's rough voice sounded in their ears. God, he loved this. Two little punks thinking they could get away with anything they wanted. Not on his shift. He got more and more irritated as he watched them sway from side-to-side as he escorted them to the park warden's office.

_Just look at them_, he thought. _Holding hands like two love-struck puppies. Two drunk, love-struck puppies_. It made him sick to his stomach.

"Yeah, yeah." Tifa muttered as she shared a look of annoyance with Vincent. She saw the twinkle in his eyes and giggled drunkenly, then hiccupped.

_Slap_. _Slap_. _Slap_.

"Big G is gonna have a field day with you two." The guard just couldn't help himself.

"Indeed?" Vincent tightened his grip on Tifa's hand, his fingers laced with hers and he tugged her closer. He glanced at the brunette out the corner of his eye. When he felt her squeeze his hand back, he knew she was thinking the same thing.

Slowly and step-by-step, they did as they were told, and began to pick up the pace.

"On three," Tifa hissed and struggled to withhold her giggles. "One…"

"Two…" Vincent tensed in preparation.

"Run for it!"

The guard blinked when his charges suddenly bolted. "H-Hey!" He yelled as he stumbled into a run, his shoes comically slipped and slid on the floor. "Come back here, you little punks! You're gonna pay for this when I get my hands on you!"

Tifa's boots squeaked as she came a halt long enough to look over her shoulder at the guard. She stuck her tongue out, gave him a cute wink, then took off once again, laughing wildly as she and Vincent legged it through the crowd.

People yelled and shouted as they were pushed aside and shoved out the way of the racing pair. Some even tried to give chase after they were knocked down. Unfortunately, the sight of an intoxicated couple staggering and running like the devil proved more amusing than seeking revenge.

"The travel shoot," Vincent breathlessly managed.

"Back to the hotel?" Tifa quizzed as she tried to stop more champagne from spilling out over the bottle rim. His eyes darted her way and she gulped as the ruby red irises darkened with sinful promises. "Hotel," she confirmed with a grin.

The guard, still hollering, blazed after them as fast as he could, but wasn't fast enough to prevent their great escape through a travel shoot. Damn. He hated those things. He gathered in a deep breath and dove through the one leading to the hotel. "Shiiiii….!"

He really hated these things.

&&&&&

Vincent was the first out at the other end. He quickly got up and held out his hand for Tifa to take, who latched onto it like a lifeline. "We must hurry."

She was immediately on her feet, her free hand clutched the half empty champagne bottle to her chest. Her laughter was now nothing more than wheezy puffs of air that made her sides hurt. "That was fun. Can we do it again?"

The gunslinger chuckled. "Perhaps sooner than you think." He went to pull her along with him, but when she didn't move, he looked at her in confusion. A dark eyebrow rose when Tifa shook the champagne, pure wickedness shone out of her every pore. Vincent watched as she carefully poured the remaining liquid onto the ground and right in front of the shoot exit.

The minx.

"Let's go." A split second after resumed running away, a loud thud was heard from behind them. The next thing heard was more of Tifa's laughter as she saw the guard sitting in a heap on the floor, his uniform darkening where the champagne was soaking his pants.

"You little…!" The guard growled out as he shook his fist at her. He scrambled to his feet amid muttered curses, but his shoes were lacking grips, and he went straight back onto his ass. The more he failed at getting up, the more frustrated he got, and thus making an amusing sight for more than Vincent and Tifa.

"I don't think he's ready for big boy pants." She said loud enough for everyone to hear.

The guard's face was almost purple with rage, and a string of explicit curses exploded from his mouth.

Vincent looked down on the man in disgust. "Your vulgarity only serves to anger." How dare that man speak to Tifa like that? "You would do well to mind your manners." He flipped his cloak to one side and revealed his gun.

The guard dangerously narrowed his eyes in contempt. He made a show of grabbing his radio, an vengeful smirk on his angry red face. "Ted to main control. I have two drunk and disorderly kids resisting arrest. One is a man wearing a long cloak, red, with black and gold boots. Approximately six feet. The other is a woman…"

Vincent and Tifa anxiously glanced at each other as the man radioed in for back up. "Think we should go?"

"Quite." The gunslinger and brunette yet again legged it towards the hotel, leaving a very smug man sat in a puddle of champagne.

&&&&&&

At the speed they were going, it didn't take long for them to reach the Ghost Hotel, and they stumbled through the double doors in breathless excite. Tifa leaned against the heavy black wood and looked at Vincent, who was silently watching her.

"Okay, we need disguises," she informed so very seriously. "Did you bring any other clothes?" She hadn't. She figured since there were only gonna be at the Gold Saucer over night, she'd travel light and left her stuff on the Highwind.

He shook his head. "I did not."

Tifa frowned. This wasn't good. They couldn't go out dressed as they were. They were wanted criminals now. She gnawed on her lower lip in thought. "I'm out of ideas…Vincent, can you hear a siren?"

He pressed his ear to the wooden door. "I am afraid so. We must hide. This way." There was a room to the left of the check-in desk. She was away from the door, hand in his, and sprinting for the room. The door was shut and locked firmly after entry.

"What are we gonna about our clothes?"

Good question. What could they…

Vincent's thoughts were cut off as he spied two dummies. "I have an idea."

"Quick!" Tifa yanked him over to the mannequins as soon as she caught onto his idea. "We need to hurry. Before we're arrested and have to get bailed out by the others." God, they'd never live it down if that happened.

The dummies were stripped of the outfits, then came their own clothes. Vincent yanked off his boots, making her giggle when he attempted to balance on one foot. He hopped on the spot, which was no easy feet considering the amount of alcohol already consumed. He managed to keep his cool even as he fell to the floor in an ungraceful heap.

He was in such a hurry to change his clothes, that he didn't realise he was putting on the wedding dress until Tifa doubled over with laughter. "You look funny!" He glared when she used the common sense not drowned by vodka. She sat down, removed her boots, then unsnapped the braces and slid off her skirt.

The dress was yanked off and thrown over her head, the sight of her struggling under layers of white lace would be forever engraved in his memory. However, when a heavenly set of toned legs were left open for his viewing pleasure, he forgot all about the layers of white lace and groaned.

He still had her panties in his pocket, so she was completely naked from the waist down. "Please put these back on." Before he gave them back, he made her watch as he savoured the feel of the material. "I will not allow you to be outside of my bed without them."

The possessive tone he used had Tifa ceasing to breathe. She grew hot between her legs and something inside her clenched tightly. Whatever she was about to do or say was rudely interrupted by voices getting closer to the room. Frantically, they both dove into the stolen outfits, and dressed the dummies.

There. Perfect.

_Knock_. _Knock_. _Knock_.

"Security! Come out with your hands up." The anticipated arrival of the Gold Saucer Police was announced by a loud, gruff, and very heavy voice that made the brunette gasp. "Open the door, or we'll break it open."

A soft and feminine moan coming from Tifa had Vincent staring at her. What was she doing?

"Oooh Vincent! That tickles!" She gave a high-pitched giggle, then followed it up with a delighted squeal. "Well? Play along." She hissed when the gunslinger did nothing but stare at her. "Oh yesss….!"

Her acting was very poor. He'd never have worry about any feigned responses.

"You got five seconds to open this door, or me and the boys are coming in. One, two…"

"Maybe we should leave whoever is in there, in there." A different voice spoke. "It ain't fun being interrupted when your with the missus."

"You heard what Ted said," voice number one argued. "They were armed and dangerous. Missus or no, we have to take them in." It was a shame to ruin some guy's down time. It was a cruel job, but somebody had to do it.

Tifa slapped a hand across her forehead. Vincent just had to be intimidating, didn't he? Obviously the moaning and groaning wasn't working, it looked like it was time for Plan B. Sadly Plan B didn't quite exist, and when Plan B didn't exist, there was only one thing to do.

Lie through the teeth.

"Here goes nothing. C'mon." Tifa plastered a beaming smile on her face as she latched a hand around Vincent's arm. "We're newlyweds. Just got married half hour ago. We're on our way to the reception. Look happy, or imagine your life has just ended. Whichever works for you."

He nodded, a bemused expression on his face. A few paces took them to the door, which was easily unlocked and opened.

Three security guards stood outside and all were armed. One of the men, a short man with black hair, instantly dropped his gaze to Tifa's chest and he grinned stupidly. That wedding dress looked real good. The corset had her breasts almost spilling over the V-shaped neckline and the rest of it just clung to her every curve.

Vincent's blood red gaze narrowed at the man. "Excuse me," his voice was lethally calm and ice cold. "This is _my_ wife. Do not look at her like she is yours."

Tifa couldn't stop the lustful shiver running through her body. God help her if she wasn't finding the possessive side of him attractive. All her life, she saw possessive men as overbearing Neanderthals. She was rapidly changing her tune. _I wonder if Vincent is gonna pull my hair and drag me back to his cave_.

Another guard, this one was the tallest of the three and sported a small patch of fuzzy brown hair. "Hey, jackass," he nudged the black haired man fiercely, "Quit it." Even he wasn't dumb enough to stare at another man's woman.

The drooling guard flushed pink and shuffled on his feet. "Sorry sir, ma'am. Ya just look real pretty, all dolled up like that."

He scowled and the man swallowed. If looks could kill. "The point is my wife is dressed up for _me_, not you."

Okay, the possessiveness was getting a little out of hand. Tifa clasped Vincent's arm with the hope of pacifying him and preventing him from popping a bullet in the guard's head. With public indecency and drunken behaviour over them, the last thing they needed was a murder charge.

"Officer," she said in her most innocent, most placating voice. "Is there any reason you're interrogating us?" She gave him the big wide eyes and fluttered her lashes. It got em every time.

"Yes ma'am," was the polite reply, "We received a head's up about a couple of hooligans that escaped arrest."

_Hooligans_? "Is that so?" Vincent answered after a finger sharply poked him in the back. "What are the descriptions? Perhaps we have seen them."

The dark haired guard looked at them suspiciously. "One was a man about your height. He was wearing a red cloak and black pants. The other was a female."

Tifa and Vincent frowned in confusion, then glanced at each other. "Well," the brunette drew the word out, "The only people we've seen wearing those items are the ones in that room."

"That is if you can call them people." The gunslinger added.

The suspicious guard narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"See for yourselves." Tifa and Vincent stepped away from the door to allow the officers into the room. They watched and waited as all three men entered, each of them staring at the dummies in bewilderment. "We were in that room for a long time and didn't see any movement. Maybe the other guard has been hallucinating?"

The brown haired man scratched his head thoughtfully. "Ted did have that phase with the smoking, but that was back in the 60's."

Vincent was cursing Tifa. Any second now, the officers were going to see she'd slipped up. They needed to make another getaway, and fast. "Excuse us. My wife and I have a reception too go to."

On that note, Tifa found herself being rapidly guided away from the room and towards the hotel entrance. Every step was faster than the last. "What's going on? I thought we were going to…"

"We have a few moments before they realise you knew there was a warrant out for our arrest. We must make haste." Vincent had the door open and her outside before she could blink. He paused for thought. "Where to?"

They would need somewhere where there would be a lot of people, where it would be dark, and where no-one would pay any attention to them. There was one perfect place. "The theatre."

Tifa grinned. A darkened theatre, a double loveseat, Vincent Valentine? That sounded just about perfect.

If only they knew that's where Cloud and Aeris had gone on their date.


	8. Sweetly serenaded

-1Heya All!

Sorry this update has taken forever, but I've been redecorating my living room. Thankfully that nightmare is over and I can get back to doing what I like best. To make it up to those who are enjoying this, I've written a longer chapter than normal.

I'd like to say a big giant THANK YOU to everyone who has left me feedback. I love you all. Hope this doesn't disappoint.

Hugs, S xxx

P.S. A big special HI to Bleuwyn!

&&&&&

Tifa carefully ran the comb through her wet hair, wincing each time the prongs hit a tangle. God, she hated using other people's shampoo and conditioner. With her hair being as long as it was, she found only a few brands that kept it nice.

She gave her reflection an extra once over before putting the comb back where she found it and sighed. She shouldn't complain. Vincent was kind enough to let her use them, and at least she was clean and not looking like some hung over hell spawn.

Hands came up to cup her cheeks and Tifa squished them together, smiling at the fish face staring back at her. If only Vincent could see her now. He'd probably run a mile for fear whatever she had was contagious.

"C'mon Lockheart. You've hidden in here long enough. Time to go out and face the music." She gave her reflection a sarcastic sneer. "Or the wedding bells as the case may be." Fingers quickly rubbed the remaining black smudges from under her eyes and she paused when the light glinted off the plastic ring on the fourth digit of her left hand.

Living proof of what alcohol, and a really cute guy, could do to a sane woman.

A loud breath of air escaped and Tifa thumbed the ring for a moment before sliding it off, fully intent on leaving it in the bathroom. She rolled it this way and that, just looking at it as though it was going to sprout wings and fly away. A cold, odd emptiness gripped her when her gaze strayed to her naked finger. Guilt was hot on it's heels.

She felt horrible for taking the ring off, knowing Vincent hadn't. Sure, they didn't know each other all that well, but Tifa knew enough to know that he'd be a little bit hurt when he noticed the absence of it. She couldn't do that to him. Just the thought of hurting him hurt her. Not after the way he'd kissed her like that.

"Mmm…" Tifa's eyes glazed over with a fine fog of lust and her lips tingled with a recent, very pleasant memory. She nibbled on a fingertip and continued to stare off into space, happily wallowing in Vincent Land before snapping out of it.

Quickly, the ring was shoved back on and she nodded in approval, then groaned. How pathetic was she? She hated men and their charming masculine wiles and their big ruby eyes. Not that every man had charming masculine wiles and big ruby eyes, but never mind. How dare he make her feel guilty when she hadn't done anything wrong?

"God!" Tifa flung her hands up in frustration only to shriek and shed her skin in shock.

The knock was loud and accompanied by his husky voice. "I have extra towels if you require them."

The door almost left its hinges as she yanked it open to glare at him. "What is it with you and giving me coronaries?" Tifa demanded much to his amusement. Crikey, her heart was bruising her ribs.

Vincent merely shrugged. "My apologies." He stood there looking far too smug for her liking.

"Breakfast?" As if on cue, her stomach rumbled at the thought of finally being fed. One would think she'd never eaten a day in her life.

Jet black hair moved softly around his face as he shook his head. "It will arrive in ten minutes," Vincent explained, a slight flickering of lips signalled he wanted so much to smile. "According to Marjorie from Room Service that as newlyweds, we are welcome to the Honeymoon Special."

A cute little laugh broke out and Tifa squeezed the bridge of her nose. "Nothing can surprise me now." And it was scary how true that was. "So the Honeymoon Special. At least we don't have to eat in the dining area, in front of everyone." At last. Something was going right.

A dark eyebrow arched high. "You do not wish people to see us?" Vincent was rather proud of himself. His teasing was getting better. He took in the horrified look on her face. Maybe he was too good.

"No Vincent!" He winced at the loudness of her denying yell. How could he think that she'd be embarrassed to be seen with him? Had he forgotten last night? "That's not what I meant…"

"Then what did you mean?" Vincent knew he shouldn't tease her so cruelly, but he really couldn't help himself. Old insecurities, he figured, could be blamed for this.

Soft, gentle hands came up to stroke both his shoulders. He stood stock still as Tifa followed the breadcrumbs and touched each side of his face, thumbs tracing his jaw and mouth, and fingers brushing across his cheeks. Just as he was getting used to the sweet touching, it was gone. In it's place was a bone crushing full body hug that threatened to squeeze the air from his lungs.

Just as quickly as the hug came, that too was gone, and he was now looking down into a pair of beautiful eyes full of honest affection. "I don't care if people see us," Tifa's eyelashes fluttered in a way that made Vincent curse females the world over. "I want people to see us…"

"Then we are an us?"

She blinked owlishly. "What?"

The gunslinger swept a strand of damp hair over her shoulder. "Forgive my trickery, but it could not be helped. I did not care to see you shy away from what you want because of fear."

Honest affection slowly disappeared and was replaced with incredulity. Tifa stared at him for a second. "You know I wouldn't be embarrassed to be seen with you, right?"

This time Vincent did smile. Only a small one, but it was a smile nonetheless. "Yes." He really should feel guilty about it. "You never answered my question. Are we an us?"

She ignored the question and punched his arm hard enough to make him hiss out a pained ow. Tifa nodded. "Just checking. Did you find our clothes?"

Ah. "We may have a problem with clothing."

"Please tell me we have some." Oh God. What if they didn't have clothes? Tifa had a horrible thought of having to walk around in a towel. Or having to get one of the others to fetch her some clothes from the ship. Either way would end up in her face taking on a permanent shade of scarlet.

Oh well. Vincent needed something to match his eyes.

Blessedly, he said the magic words. "Yes, we have some." He didn't say they were their clothes.

Relief had Tifa's slender shoulders sagging and she sighed. "We don't have to walk around in towels and stolen underwear. Good. What's the problem?"

Thankfully, a knock on the room door prevented Vincent from having to answer. "Let us eat first. Come." His palm was warm against her skin and he smirked as she shivered in response to his gentle touch. He guided her out the bathroom, towards a table barely big enough for two, and pulled out a chair.

An adorable pink haze spread across her cheek bones. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." It was his pleasure indeed. Another, more impatient knock sounded and all it took was four powerful strides for Vincent to reach the door. He opened it and blinked.

Two middle aged women stood there. One was pushing a large cart covered in food, expensive silverware, and balloons saying Congratulations. The other woman held what appeared to be a garden. Flowers of all colours and species seemed to stand out against the blackness of her uniform.

"Good afternoon!" They both greeted with equally large smiles. "On behalf of the Ghost hotel, congratulations to your new wife and yourself. We hope you live a long and happy life together."

Vincent nodded and offered his version of a happy, newlywed smile as he reached out to bring the cart inside. "Many thanks. I am sure missus Valentine…" he ignored the muttered _Valentone_ from behind him. "And I will enjoy this very much."

"Excellent." One woman clapped her hands together and the other placed the flowers in an empty space. "Again congratulations." They left, but he could hear them talking with all the whims of hopeless romantics.

"Vincent?" Tifa came up to peer over his shoulder before moving away to let him inside. She paused as she took in the amount of food and blooms. "Wow."

"Indeed." The little wheels squeaked a little as he pushed it up against the table. The brunette came trotting up to stand close enough so that her arm brushed his. He wondered if she'd done it on purpose. Only one way to find out.

"You've no need to seek excuses to touch me."

"Huh?" Surprise flittered across her face as she stared up at him, then down to where her flesh met his. "Oh. Sorry." She made a move to edge away, but he stopped her with no more than dark eyes that burned a deep red. Tifa swallowed back a forming lump and released a long, slow breath that did little to ease the tiny bit of awkwardness she felt.

Vincent indicated for her to sit, watching as she obeyed without an argument. "What? I'm assuming that our marriage vows included my obedience. Just fulfilling my end of the bargain. Now let's see what we have here. I'm so hungry, I could eat you."

"I have no objections to sating your appetite, but I doubt I could provide the correct sustenance."

Tifa glared and huffed at his comment, then set about removing the silver tops of the plates. Her eyes grew wider with everything she saw. "Oh my God! Look at all this!" She began to point things out. "Melon, prawn cocktail, salad, ham, eggs, fruit juice, champagne, croissants, and butter. Real butter! You hardly get that anymore. Normally it's low fat margarine that lowers cholesterol. Or supposed to lower cholesterol. That's not margarine. That's gross. Like low fat mayonnaise."

Vincent went to say something, but a raised hand stopped him. "I don't care what people say. That is not mayonnaise. Now let's not let all this yummy goodness go to waste."

"Most definitely a sin." Again, he pulled her chair out and waited until Tifa was sitting comfortably before pushing it in. "You would like a drink?"

She bit her lower lip indecisively. "I know alcohol is what got us into this mess, but I've never had a champagne breakfast. Seen it in movies and it always looks the thing to do, you know?"

His hand went for the bottle resting in a bucket of ice. A champagne breakfast she would have. Vincent began unscrewing it, carefully positioning the cork away from Tifa so it didn't take out a pretty eye when it went pop.

Pop it went and Tifa clapped in delight, watching excitedly as he filled her a glass half full. "Thanks. De ja vu," she commented dryly as he sat opposite her. "This is the second time we've eaten together. It's getting to be a habit."

Vincent began sharing out the food. "Not a bad one, I presume." He felt her foot nudge his, and nudged her back.

"Of course not. You're good company, even if you lead intoxicated women astray and marry them." Tifa nudged his foot a second time and grinned when it got returned. "That's a habit you want to get rid of."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I do not have a habit of marrying intoxicated women."

Tifa innocently shrugged, using her fingers to pop a delicious piece of melon into her mouth. She hummed as the sweet juice coated her tongue and she savoured it before swallowing. "You married me, didn't you?" Hey, he teased her earlier. She was entitled to a little payback. Speaking of payback, her toes found his ankle and she gave him a gentle kick.

"That does not mean I have done it before." Vincent kicked her back. "If either of us has cause to worry, it is me. You are the one unable to remember last night." A single brow rose. "How many others have fallen into your trap, I wonder."

She could have continued the conversation, she would have enjoyed the flirtatious banter, but another growl from her stomach quickly ended that. "We'll never know," the words were breezy, careless, and came with a cheeky grin which brought a mischievous sparkle to her eyes. Tifa raised her glass. "Here's to the evils of alcohol," she paused for thought. "Here's to marrying each other and not total strangers."

Vincent dutifully joined her toast and took a sip when she did. He knew they had to talk, seriously talk, about what they were going to do about the circumstances, but not yet. It didn't seem right to ruin such a lovely breakfast with a conversation that had the power to destroy what he had found, what they both found.

"It's weird." Tifa broke the companionable silence. "I took my ring off in the bathroom," his averted gaze didn't go unnoticed. She felt awful, but she had to be honest. "Played with it for a few seconds and put it back on." She also noticed their game of footsy had stopped.

She felt the full intensity of his attention as he looked right at her. "Why?" He asked, his voice gruff and husky, the tone moved over her skin like fine grains of sand. "Why did you put it back on?"

She shrugged, and this time, it was her averting her gaze. "I don't know. My finger looked kind of naked without it. Then I thought about you. About how you wouldn't have taken yours off and I felt guilty. That maybe my taking it off, even for a second, would hurt you."

Usually, Tifa wasn't one to openly discuss her feelings and thoughts, but this was Vincent. She could trust him not to judge or laugh or do anything but listen respectfully. Despite knowing this, she still a tad foolish for admitting what she just did. Particularly as this couldn't be classed a proper marriage.

Gods, she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. He was probably thinking she was some crazy, sentimental idiot whose idea of love came from a trashy romance novel written for bored housewives.

Long thick fingers closed around her smaller ones, heating them through a firm hold, a roughened thumb drew circles on a knuckle. "What is it you wish?" Vincent wasn't one to hope or become overwhelmed by silly notions of love at first sight. So he wasn't going to hope for her wanting to stay married.

He wasn't stupid enough to believe she'd suddenly fallen in love with him, or vice versa. So there was no reason to hope she might want to give things a go on the off chance that it might work, that they might have something good between them.

"Again, I don't know Vincent." He watched as she pushed her free hand through her hair, leaving it to flop around her face in a slightly messy way that only enhanced her features. "Last night, from what I can remember, was incredible. More than incredible, but…"

"We know very little of each other." Tifa nodded. "I understand. But it does not mean we cannot take this chance, despite how it begun."

"I never thought I'd get married, drunk or not, so I never gave it a second thought. At the same time, I thought I'd only get married once and it'd be done the way it's supposed to be done."

Vincent brought her hand up and pressed a soft kiss to each of her fingers. "Ah, yes. Date for a while, live together, then get married. It may not be the way you had hoped, yet it may not be the wrong way."

Tifa smiled as he tried to make her feel better about the whole thing. "What about you? Did you think of marriage?"

He didn't answer and she sucked in a deep breath, trying to control mild annoyance before it bubbled into righteous indignation. "Okay this," she gestured to them both, "Whatever it is, has to go both ways. We can't discuss me without discussing you. What did you want, Vincent? What did you dream of having?"

The gunslinger took time to take a sip of his champagne as he contemplated his response. She had been honest with him and he should be honest with her. "I dreamt of holding the woman I love. Dreamt of making love to her, of saving her from herself, from the world. From…"

"Hojo." It took every ounce of willpower Tifa owned not to spit that name out. It wouldn't do to show Vincent what she planned on doing with that man. He'd only try and talk her out of it. Or he'd get there before her.

"Yes. Hojo." Did she really think he couldn't see the rage burning inside her, that he couldn't see the gory death she was planning? Vincent couldn't help but feel flattered that Tifa wanted to defend his honour. Even if it should be the other way round.

It seemed as though the wrong way round was the theme of the day.

"Lucrecia." Her name brought with it the usual ache in his chest, but it wasn't like all those other times. "Lucrecia was that woman." Vincent inwardly winced at the flash of hurt he saw on Tifa's face. "Lucrecia was the dream I wanted."

Her hand slowly slipped out of his and placed in her lap. Probably to prevent the slap he envisioned receiving. He rapidly continued before her self control faded and she decided he wasn't worth a chance. "I often watched her. How her hair bounced in a ponytail, how her glasses would slide down her nose. I would dream of running a brush through that hair, pushing those glasses up…."

"Alright!" Tifa snapped and glared at the gunslinger. It was wrong of her, but all she could think of was the word bitch. "I get it. You. Lucrecia. Big love. God! All I asked was what you wanted, not a full recap of the romance of the century." She slammed a piece of melon into her mouth, and this time there was no sweet taste.

All that lingered on her tongue was the bitter, rotten taste of envy. It made her lips curl up in disgust. She thanked God for divorces and annulments.

Vincent ignored her outburst. "First love always has a habit of making a person dream of such things, as it has a habit of leaving a bittersweet ache. My dreams are different now, the woman is different." He studied her. Watched how she violently chomped on a chunk of melon before snatching up another and giving that one the same treatment.

Tifa was jealous. Exceedingly so if the twitching vein on her temple was anything to go by.

"Now I dream of leading intoxicated women astray and holding them at gun point until she agrees to marry me without so much as a first date."

Tifa gasped and her jaw hit the floor, a hand came up to nervously fiddle with her towel. He really hadn't held her at gun point, right? Because he wouldn't do that, right?

A deep chuckle cut through her unfounded worries. "I did not hold you at gun point," at least he didn't think it was Tifa. Vincent paused as a flashback ran through his head. "Although one or two uses for my gun were brought to my attention."

The hand fiddling with the towel covered her now burning face and she groaned into it. "I'm a pervert. A drunken, callous, husband-trapping pervert with a kink for guns." She peeked through her fingers in time to see a full blown, very rare smile gracing the face of Vincent. "Sorry for the childish jealousy. You were being honest with me and I was being stupid."

"There is nothing to forgive." He raised the champagne in offer of refilling her glass, which he immediately did once he got a nod. "Truly, I never gave marriage a thought. I was a Turk, Tifa. A dangerous line of work. In hindsight, Lucrecia and I would not have worked. Not with how I made my living."

Tifa thought before she answered. "Being a Turk isn't the only dangerous job. You have Soldier, Shin-Ra in general, security guards, plus countless other professions. It doesn't stop them from having relationships. I don't see why you couldn't have had something."

"Perhaps," Vincent mused quietly. He twirled the flute glass between skilled digits, watching as the bubbly liquid obeyed the motions. "I want…" Why was it harder saying what he wanted from her? "I would like to…"

Tifa understood more than he knew. A shy smile spread her lips wide enough for him to see two rows of shiny white teeth and a pretty blush stained her cheeks a sweet shade of pink. "Yes, I'd like that too."

Vincent, like everything else, took it all in his side. "Then it is settled. You are my wife." It seemed a little anticlimactic, perhaps a bit emotionless, considering the rest of the drama, but something had to go smoothly.

"And you're my husband…" Tifa tilted her head to one side. "That's gonna take some getting used to."

The gunslinger retook possession of her hand. "We have time."

That was one issue dealt with, now all they to do was retrieve their clothes, and tell the others.

&&&&&&&

"I can't believe we have to steal our clothes back," Tifa muttered as the elevator descended. It was either wander around in towels or wear the stolen wedding clothes. She chose the latter. It didn't hurt seeing Vincent in a tux. Without the cover of his cloak, she had an unobstructed view of his face.

"I cannot believe we are guilty of theft in the first place." He unconsciously straightened the bow tie. God, he hated bow ties. He noted the admiration as her eyes swept over his body and the tongue licking her lips. If it got him that reaction, then he'd wear a bow tie all day.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, we did. We're petty criminals. Get used to it. Okay the plan for getting our stuff back is what exactly?" He said nothing and the admiration turned into disbelief. "Oh, so what? We just poke our heads, already printed on Wanted sheets, round the corner. Check for a clear coast, sneak in, switch, and voila?"

Vincent's lips flickered. "Good plan. I go first. My attire is less…" His eyes drifted down to where she was almost spilling out of the white bodice. "Noticeable."

Long dark lashes fluttered flirtatiously. "I thought you liked noticeable." She suddenly felt the need to prove her point. Tifa deeply inhaled, which caused the dress to be pulled tight across her breasts.

Vincent's scarlet orbs darkened as he backed her up against the elevator wall. Then his breath was warm on her cheek and his low voice sent a sliver of lust vibrating down her spine. Her fingers gripped the jacket hem as she struggled to take in air.

"You won't be _noticeable_ for anybody _but_ me. Understand?" Each time he inhaled, he caught how sweet she smelled. His mouth brushed hers, just once, just enough to give everything and nothing. Then he was gone, leaving Tifa glassy eyed and growing warm.

"I understand." God, was that throaty noise her? She figured it was.

"Good." Satisfied, Vincent arranged her hair to the way she had it last night. A few stray strands to frame her face. "I go first, you wait for my signal, then follow."

Tifa rose up on her tiptoes to press a chaste kiss on his chin. "There's a lot to be said for marrying an ex-Turk." Since their earlier agreement to give them a chance, she hadn't been able to stop saying it. It almost made her giggle like a little girl. Of course, that could also be the champagne breakfast.

The elevator coming to a halt stopped Vincent's reply, and the moment the doors slid open, he inched his head around the corner. Good. There was no-one there. He wiggled his finger for her to follow him. Tifa edged cautiously around the same corner, always keeping an alert eye out for either trouble, cops, or any of their friends.

The gunslinger all but scurried through the lobby, the brunette hot on his heels, and both sniggering quietly. The plan would have worked if only a group of men holding various instruments hadn't ran out in front of them. They grinned in a completely fake manner. Vincent gathered they probably hated this job.

"Are you Mr and Mrs Valentone?" The one holding the trumpet asked hopefully. They'd been waiting in the lobby all day for these two to show up. "It's the new policy of the Ghost hotel that all Honeymooners receive a complimentary serenade."

Tifa and Vincent just stared at them before the gunslinger spoke up. "It is appreciated," they really needed to get their clothes before they were caught. "But unnecessary. The champagne breakfast will suffice."

Obviously, he was ignored. A squeaky noise reverberated through his ears and his head jerked to the side in response. The trumpet started up, then came the hand held organ, and finally the tambourine. "Congratulations on your wedding day…!"

Tifa inwardly cringed while Vincent just stood there, unable to do anything but stare as the three men bounced to the rhythmic beat. The words barely registered until the chorus came. Unfortunately, so did the crescendo. Stunned beyond belief, the couple took a few minutes to rescue their wits from the pits of insanity.

"Thank you very much." Tifa managed and gamely tried to keep her expression happy. "That was very nice of you." In a way it was. If their friends wouldn't be able to wish them good luck, then these strangers may as well. Besides, they were only doing their job.

"Indeed. Very… Melodic." Vincent complimented as much as he could. It probably sounded better to someone who didn't have demonic hearing.

An elbow to his gut got his attention and he looked at his wife, who hissed, "Tip."

Why? That wasn't music. It was borderline evil. He was going to say that, but the large crimson eyes looking up at him made him think twice. Vincent knew he did good when Tifa sent him a coy look as he handed over a few Gil. He made a mental note to find out what else got him that coy look.

"Thanks guys," Tifa beamed at them and began to drag Vincent towards the room where their much missed clothes were. She really couldn't wait to get out of the white marshmallow she was currently wearing. That lace itched in places she didn't know she had.

"Congratulations, and thanks for the tip Mrs. Valentone."

Vincent scowled. He was the one who did the tipping, she did the elbowing. This was one seriously screwed up world. Again, they didn't get very far before their well laid out plan was once more interrupted. Only this time, they were interrupted by a very familiar voice.

"Mrs. Valentone eh?" Barrett crossed muscled arms over an equally muscled chest, an unlit cigar was crunched between thick fingers. "Care to explain?"


End file.
